


What Lies Beneath

by myriddin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kinda?, Mild Sexual Content, Size Kink, ~ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the hokey horror movie title, this is anything but. Basically, Sansa finds out her brother’s best friend is ~well-endowed~ and becomes a little obsessed as a result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Lies Beneath

Sansa was sixteen the first time she saw _it_.

They were on their annual family vacation with the Baratheons and Arryns, this year’s venue being a beautiful lakeside retreat. Sansa’s head was full of romantic fantasies about Joffrey finally asking her to be his girlfriend, preferably during a moonlit walk or a leisurely boat ride beneath the stars.

Reality didn’t hold to her imagination, however, when Joffrey parked his car out of sight from their parents’ cabins and began pawing at her during their goodnight kiss.

That was how Sansa found herself wandering down the path leading to the docks, not wanting to return to the family cabin before her father’s generous curfew of 1 a.m. and have to deal with Arya’s prying questions and snide remarks. She sniffled softly, distracting not a moment later when she heard the sound of splashing coming from the water. A beautiful willow was blocking the lake from her sight; curiosity took hold and Sansa edged closer to peek around the thick trunk.

She counted five figures in the water, her lips pursing into a frown as she saw a familiar head of auburn curls, then an annoyingly familiar laugh coming from the man standing nearby as he shamelessly flirted with the girls they were frolicking in the shallows with.

Ugh. The last thing she wanted to do was spy on her brother and Theon on a date. As she turned to go, a splash from the opposite direction of the others caught her attention, and turning her head to face the source of the new sound, her breath caught as she found herself helplessly staring. 

He was long and lean, cords of taut muscle rippling and flowing beneath his pale, wet skin as he pulled himself out of the water. Where Sansa’s attention zeroed in, however, were the boxer-briefs sticking as close as a second skin, blatantly outlining the…rather _large_ …swell beneath the soaked cotton.

Sansa hadn’t given thought to being able to run well in the stylish sandals she’d worn on her date, but somehow she managed just fine as she raced for the Stark cabin, trying desperately to forget the stirring she had felt inside ogling her brother’s nearly-naked best friend.

++

Sansa knew there was a difference between being curious and fixating, but it was hard not to be fixated when Jon was always around. Sansa herself was around the family home a lot more since breaking up with Joffrey, and much to her complete mortification, whenever Jon was in the vicinity she found her eyes lingering on his crotch.

Like any other heterosexual sixteen-year-old girl, the concept of a penis as something more than an abstract idea wasn’t foreign to Sansa. She had undergone government-mandated health classes, survived a few embarrassingly frank discussions with her mother, and giggled over naked pictures online with her friends. Add in her secret penchant for romance novels, and her imagination was actively filling in details to fantasies of things she hadn’t yet experienced.

Late at night, it was thoughts of him that left her restless and hot. What would those lean, taut muscles feel like beneath her fingertips, rippling and flowing the way they had at the lake, moving with the rhythm of his body as he rocked against her. Imagining how he would feel in her hand…likely heavy given the outline she’d seen, warm as blood flowed south with his arousal. Would it be smooth, hard to the touch as the titular slang for an erection, or would he be soft and malleable like the spongy walls of her own sex?

It didn’t help that she finally understood Robb’s jokes about Jon’s jockstrap needing extra detail, or not being able to share everything like they had as boys because Jon needed something called ‘Magnum’. Or when winter came and the boys switched from field sports to competitive swimming. The sight of Jon in the tight, clinging speedo wasn’t easy to look away from.

That year was the third time Ygritte and Jon got back together (their six month separation, their longest breakup, had given her hope that she might have time to gather her courage to speak up), and Sansa went through whatever mental Olympics were necessary to push Jon Snow to the back recesses of her mind.

++

Sansa is seventeen and Harry Hardyng breaks her heart.

Jon is, embarrassingly enough, the person present when she breaks down. But Jon is gentle with her, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into his chest. Resting her head against his shoulder and feeling him stroke her hair as she slowly calmed, it was the first time that Sansa consciously acknowledged that there may be more to her attraction to Jon than the physical. His kindness elicited warmth that bloomed slowly in her chest, blossoming and spreading through every inch of her as she felt the tender touch of lips to her forehead.

Yes, there was something more to her feelings for Jon Snow.

++

Sansa is eighteen and she’s grown a little jaded when it comes to men and dating. But still her curiosity toward sexuality had grown, and restlessness settled under her skin that was difficult to sate with flat, lifeless images on the computer.

Jon stared at her gob-smacked after she had stumbled her way through her request, but then incredulity turned to understanding. “Are you sure you want it to be me?”

Sansa nodded quickly. “I don’t know who else I could ask without them getting the wrong idea…I guess I could ask Theon, but-”

“No!” Jon was quick to refute that idea and relief mingled with anticipation for Sansa as Jon reached over to lock the bedroom door and he reached for the button and zip to his jeans.

He eased them and his underwear down tapered hips, and his hand wrapped around the thick sex already half-mast with her interest. He stroked himself, once, twice, and he thickened and swelled as he circled the head with his thumb. After a few minutes, he pulled his hand away and placed it against his hip, forcing himself to stay still under her perusal.

To her sheer and absolute embarrassment, the first words to fall stupidly from her lips were, “Would it fit?”

To Jon’s credit, he didn’t laugh, even as Sansa wanted to disappear into the floor. Instead, he gave her a soft, patient smile. “Yeah, it would fit, Sans. That’s how our bodies are made. But it would take time to make it comfortable for you.”

Sansa swallowed hard, trying (and completely failing) not to imagine all the ways Jon would make it “comfortable” for her. “Can I touch it?”

Jon licked his lips, hesitating, before he nodded jerkily. His eyes were dilated, his neck was flushed, and his cock twitched beneath her touch as she reached out and ran a finger down the shaft.

Her first thought was, as before, that he was big. Not monstrously big like she had feared in her more naïve moments a couple years before, but impressive in length and considerably thick. He was smooth to the touch, save for one long vein that ran from root to tip, and she delighted in touching him, especially the little gasp and shudder he gave when she mimicked his earlier ministrations, brushing her thumb against the soft, spongy head.

Sooner than she would have liked, Jon pulled her away and backed away several steps, breathing visibly hard as he turned away from her to fix his appearance.

She thanked him softly, daring to press a quick kiss to his cheek before she darted out of the room. Though they never brought any of it up again, there was a notable lack of awkwardness between them after that day, and more often than ever before, when Sansa stole glances in Jon’s direction, she might find him looking back, giving her that small, soft smile.

++

Sansa is nineteen- she ends up going to the same university as Jon, and their friendship flourished. One afternoon, when they were studying in his apartment, she happened to glance over and was struck by a sudden (but wonderfully familiar) feeling of affection, followed closely by a sharp bolt of attraction. Taking the chance, she leaned over and planted a questioning kiss to his lips, one that was immediately returned.

Hours later, the mattress dipping announced Jon’s return to the bed, brandishing a warm, damp cloth he used to wipe away the evidence of their passion. Tossing it into the hamper, he flopped back down, laying his head against Sansa’s stomach. He rubbed his cheek against the warmth he found there, closing his eyes and breathing out contently, turning his head to press his lips against smooth skin.

Sansa’s fingers moved into his hair, earning a rumble of approval as she scratched her nails against his scalp. “Jon?”

“Hmm?”

Sansa licked her lips a touch nervously, before she hesitantly continued. “We, um…we didn’t…”

Hooded eyes regarded her silently for a moment, his mouth curving into a soft smile. “No, we didn’t. Not completely. Are you disappointed?”

Something about Jon’s gentle, drowsy tone told Sansa there was no reason to hedge around the truth. “No…no, this was perfect as it was.”

“I’m glad.” Jon drew himself up until they were face to face, bringing his mouth to Sansa’s in a brief kiss. “We’ve got time to get for the rest.”

( _the pleasure of Jon’s lips dragging across her skin_ , _his long, clever fingers tracing the curves and dips of her body before sliding deliciously inside her, the heat of his mouth closing over her sex and then licking into the very core of her- “have to open you up, sweetheart,” he rasped against her skin, “wanna make it so good for you, I gotta take my time.”_ )

“Yeah. We’ve got time.”


End file.
